


Massacre at Gilded Hall

by DelusionsbyBonnie, The London-in-the-Air Archival Society (sakuuya)



Series: New Adventures of the London-in-the-Air Archival Society [3]
Category: Battle for London in the Air
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-13 07:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie/pseuds/DelusionsbyBonnie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya/pseuds/The%20London-in-the-Air%20Archival%20Society
Summary: Rescued set descriptions (and set images, where possible) from round five of the Polyvore battle group New Adventures of London-in-the-Air. Primarily not my work, uploaded here for archival purposes.





	1. Round Information / @sakuuya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @sakuuya, aka [sakuuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya). It was part of the set-up for this round.

Welcome back to LITA proper, everyone! After our brief detour into AUs (which, seriously, I can’t even express how happy your entries made me), it’s time to dive right into the thick of things! LITA petered out right as the plot was set to explode, so things will move pretty fast from here on out, with only a break in a couple months for @multifandomgal’s winning AU contest.

Shortly after the arrival of reinforcements from MITA and the Low Town and the news of the Archivist breaking for everyone, a huge fire rips through the Gilded Hall, the seat of LITA’s government, claiming the lives of Mayor Steers and roughly half of the Council of Public Works. Chairman Hazard declares himself the provisional Mayor and publicly blames the rebellion for the fire, tasking the suspiciously-promoted General Scarborough with hunting them down once and for all. Public sentiment is firmly against the rebellion right now—even people who disagreed with Steers’ government think that burning down Gilded Hall (an act which claimed the lives of many innocent people in addition to Steers and some of the Board) was crossed an unacceptable line. Skirmishes between rebellion members and the police/Scarborough’s forces have been increasing, but so far none of the new bases have been compromised.

Amid the rebellion itself, rumors swirl that the fire was set to cover up the Hazard-ordered assassinations of Steers, Burns, and Page. These stories are corroborated by a couple notable defections--first, Walt Steers publicly denounces Hazard’s mayorship as illegitimate and privately begins forging ties with the rebellion. If someone wants to write about being his contact person, go for it! A few days later, Dave Heaton, with a somewhat-reluctant Nori Lynch in tow, shows up at the rebellion base on the Epsilon-Iota crossing (that is, the one run by Tristan Curtis and Rebecca Tyler (@luanofthemiste)) and confirms that Hazard ordered the killings and the fire.

For more information, please see the LITA plot wrap-up set: https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=217300035. This contest covers roughly the first ten points in the “MAIN PLOT SUMMARY” section (everything up to and including the one that starts, “A scarred Dave Heaton…), plus the first point in the “OTHER INFO” section. Please be cool about not including information from that set that your OC wouldn’t know at this point, such as the identity of the Archivist.

As usual, feel free to answer the description requirements in summary form rather than as a full story, if that’s what you have the time/energy/inspiration for!

EXAMPLE SET: https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=229986929

\-----

Now that we’ve reached the point where the NPC cast is starting to get killed off, I’ve included two lists below. The first list is of NPCs who definitely, canonically die this round. Feel free to write about their deaths, though your OC might not know all the details. The second list is characters who may or may not die. It’s up to you! If you’d like to write about one of their deaths, OR if you’d like your OC to save them, PM me or comment on this set, just so I can keep track of who’s doing what with whom. For now at least, you may only claim one on-the-fence NPC per round. Future rounds will likely include the option for your OC to kill NPCs him-/herself; I’ll have more details about that when it becomes relevant.

Since I myself am an unholy hybrid of mod and player, I’m gonna start waiting until a week into the contest before I post my example sets. At that point, I’ll pick an unclaimed NPC to either kill or save in my story (unless I have no ideas for anybody, haha), so if you have strong designs on a particular NPC, please get your reservation in before that! Unclaimed NPCs at the end of a round may be moved to the “definitely die” list for the next round.

NPCs WHO DEFINITELY DIE THIS ROUND:

\- Mayor Steers (Drank poison rather than be killed by Dave Heaton at Gilded Hall)  
\- Professor Burns (Killed by Ambrose Lynch at Gilded Hall)  
\- Devon Caulder (Killed by Ambrose Lynch at Gilded Hall)  
\- Simon Page (Killed by Dave Heaton at Gilded Hall)

NPCs WHO MAY DIE THIS ROUND:

\- Cedric Thornton (Killed by Nori Lynch before she defects)  
\- Adrianna Barclay (Killed by Nori Lynch before she defects)  
\- Xavier Carmichael (Killed by either Alastair or Geneva Hazard for being a spy for the Crown)  
\- Bart Spencer (Died of natural causes)

Additionally, if your character is a noble and has male NPC relatives who favored Mayor Steers over Chairman Hazard, Nori Lynch might assassinate them, at your discretion. This doesn’t count against your limit of claimed NPCs for the round, but I wanted to note it here.

If you have any questions about this, or any other part of this contest, please feel free to comment or shoot me a PM! I’ve never modded anything with this complicated a plot, so it’s a learning experience for me, haha. You can also PM @decoder13, who knows a heck of a lot more about the plot anyhow.

\-----

NEW ADVENTURES OF LONDON-IN-THE-AIR CONTEST 5: MASSACRE AT GILDED HALL

SET REQUIREMENTS  
[ ] 1+ pictures of your character  
[ ] 1+ pictures of a character who was involved in the massacre at Gilded Hall in any capacity  
[ ] A quote or text filler  
[ ] Something gold  
[ ] Fire

DESCRIPTION REQUIREMENTS  
[ ] How does your OC find out about the massacre at Gilded Hall? How do they feel about it?  
[ ] What does your OC do in the aftermath of the attack? Does the increased presence of police/soldiers affect them at all?  
[ ] Who does your OC think are the biggest threats (to the rebellion and/or to them personally) right now? Do they trust Walt? Dave? Nori?  
[ ] Are there any plot points that you (as a player) haven’t seen me mention that you want to make sure are addressed? If so, what are they?  
[ ] Tag the mods @decoder13 and @sakuuya

 


	2. Liz Maximoff / @multifandomgal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @multifandomgal.

Liz had been working in the shop all morning, taking a bit of a break from rebellion business, but of course this moment of peace was short-lived. A rather panicked-looking young woman came rushing through the door, and immediately headed over to the front desk. "Whatever's the matter, miss?" Elizabeth asked, kindly, but a little confused. 

The woman looked at her in surprise before answering "You haven't heard? There's been a fire at Gilded Hall – they’re saying that the mayor himself is dead!”

\- Well that was...unexpected. Liz honestly didn’t know what to think; part of her was relieved, another part horrified, but she was also concerned. She hadn’t heard anything about a rebellion attack being planned, so this had to be an inside job of some sort, but who was behind it? Steers wasn’t exactly a popular mayor, so really it could have been anyone, and Liz was determined to help the rebellion find out who.


	3. Rebecca Tyler / @lunaofthemiste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @lunaofthemiste.

Rebecca felt that a part of her always knew that this would happen, but never expected it so soon.

The moments where she found out would be forever ingrained in her memory: her brother entering her room slowly without a knock, his refusal to look up, and how he finally said it out loud, trying hard to keep it together and not lose it.

Their father was dead. Murdered, actually. Who was to blame?

The rebellion.

As the news slowly hit her, Rebecca learned more and more about the attack. Several others had died, including Mayor Steers. Hazard had taken control of the government and officially declared the rebellion enemies of the people.

There wasn’t much Rebecca could think or feel about any of it. Although the rebellion had been blamed for this incident, they couldn’t have committed any of the crimes described.

Could they?

The Tylers were wealthy enough to have a funeral for the Baron, despite the martial law occurring on the rest of London-In-The-Air. It made Rebecca feel even more isolated, trapped with her thoughts in the manor. She constantly went back and forth, acknowledging that her father was not a good person, but also acknowledging that he did not have to die.

Rebecca knew that she was not the one to make a sacrifice play, but this murder spree did not seem to help anyone. If anything, it made the situation a thousand times worse.

There was a dinner after the funeral, one where the wealthy could complain about the rebellion and pretend to be sorry for the death of the Baron. Rebecca’s mother was constantly flocked with people making sure she was well, while Nathan did his best to keep the most invasive questioners away.

“She just needs time.” He remarked to Rebecca later that evening. “We all do.”

With that comment, he was promptly whisked away by Octavia, who Rebecca could tell was absolutely ecstatic. Not because of the death of her father, but about the title she was about to inherit.

It just made Rebecca sick.

She stood off to the side, not really wanting to be there, but not wanting to be alone. The amount of people there was overwhelming, so much so that Rebecca did not notice Walter Steers approach her.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but I wanted to let you know that I am deeply sorry for your loss.” He addressed Rebecca quietly.

Rebecca nodded. “And I am sorry for the loss of your father. Neither of them should have died.” She said gravely.

Walter sighed. “Now Hazard has gone and accused the rebellion of something they did not do.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Be careful, that’s not something you should say around these guests.”

“But it doesn’t bother you.” Walter pointed out. “I noticed the embroidery on your handkerchief.” He spoke softly keeping his head down.

Rebecca almost rolled her eyes, almost annoyed by how much worse everything could get. “What of it?” She asked, feigning innocence.

“I do know what it stands for, I’m not an idiot.” Walter frowned. “Almost every member of the rebellion had that symbol on them.”

“And what do you plan to do with that information, arrest me in my own home?” Rebecca shot back.

“No, not that.” Walter shook his head. “I need to get in contact with someone there. Is there somewhere I could go to look for answers?” He asked.

Rebecca hesitated. “There’s a…how should I put it? Medical base on Omega that you could go to. A bit shabby on the outside, I think it’s a duplex of some sort.” She eventually said. “I think you’ll be able to make your way there.”

“Thank you.” Walter said softly, walking away once he got his answer. Rebecca didn’t know what to think of him, but figured she sent him in the right direction. If Walter turned out to be a spy, she was sure Dr. Jhandir would take care of him in a fitting manner.

***

A few days later, Rebecca found herself waking up at the early morning light, unsure of what to do. She hadn’t been to her base in a few days due to the funeral, but part of her wondered whether she should go back at all. If the rebellion was truly behind the attack, she couldn’t support that cause. However, she couldn’t just abandon everyone, and Tristan.

She’d abandoned Tristan.

The threats from Octavia scared her, she imagined Tristan being caught and kil.led, just like Oscar had before him. She couldn’t lose any more people, not if she could help it.

So she pushed him away, burned the letters. It was unfair, she knew, but it was keeping him safe. Safe from her, at least.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door, subsequently followed by the door opening to reveal her brother Nathan. “Sorry, I wanted to see if you were sleeping.” He winced. “May I come in?”

Rebecca nodded, and Nathan entered the room, careful to close the door softly behind him. “You are up earlier than usual.” She commented.

He shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re one to talk. I wasn’t sleeping very well, and I wasn’t going to wake Octavia.”

Rebecca nodded. “How are you doing? You still seem…a bit shaken.”

Nathan hesitated. “I feel like I’m losing everyone, that’s all. First father, then you-”

“Me?” Rebecca interrupted. “I’m not going anywhere, I will always be around for you, Nathan.”

“But I see less and less of you, I can only wonder what you’re doing.”

“It’s not that exciting, really.” Rebecca brushed him off.

“Then it must be about some gentleman.” Nathan grinned.

“It’s not, really.” Rebecca bit her lip, smiling slightly. “Mostly.”

“Will I ever get to meet the strapping young lad who’s caught Becca's heart?” Nathan asked dramatically, almost making Rebecca laugh.

“We will see how things play out.” Rebecca nodded, looking out the window. “I should probably get out today.” She murmured. “Get some air, at least.”

“You never liked being kept up in here, not even with that bodyguard.” Nathan commented, standing up. “I should probably let you get ready, then.”

Rebecca nodded. “Yes…” She said distractedly.

Nathan moved to leave the room, hesitating slightly. “Rebecca…whatever it is that you need to do, don’t let me stand in the way. Regardless of what happens, you’re my family.” He spoke gravely.

Rebecca gave Nathan an assuring smile. “I know, Nate.”

***

A few hours later, a disguised Rebecca made her way to the base on the Epsilon-Iota crossing. The increased presence of soldiers would be a problem in the future, but Rebecca knew her way around a crowd, and how to avoid confrontation. By the time she made it to the base, however, she was wondering if she should have bothered.

Tristan was already inside when she entered, who barely looked up to see her.

“I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Rebecca swallowed, crossing her arms. “I had some family business to take care of.”

“That I understand.” Tristan nodded. “But before that? Not at all.”

“Tristan…” Rebecca winced as Tristan continued.

“I just…don’t understand. Is it something I did, something I said? I…I don’t know, I feel like I put myself out there and you just left me, alone….just…what do you have to say?” Tristan rubbed his neck, looking more vulnerable than Rebecca had ever seen him.

“I didn’t want to stay away, but I had no other choice.” Rebecca started to explain, only to be interrupted by Tristan.

“There is always a choice, Rebecca!”

“A choice that could kill you isn’t one that I want!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Octavia might know, I couldn’t risk her finding out about you. She’d report you immediately, then…then you’d be just like Oscar. I wasn’t willing to risk that.” She stopped, taking a slow breath. “I can only ask that you forgive me, but I am not sorry for trying to protect you.”

Tristan hesitated, and was about to speak, when someone knocked at the door. Deciding to wait on responding to Rebecca, he walked over and opened the door, almost immediately slamming it.

“Hide!” He hissed to Rebecca, lungeing to his desk to grab a pistol.

“We don’t want any trouble, we’re not here to arrest you.” The voice from the other side spoke. “We want to help.”

Tristan hesitated, frowning. He opened the door once again, his pistol trained on the pair outside. “Drop your weapons and put them where I can see them.” He ordered. “You’re lucky we’re letting you in.”

“Letting whom in?” Rebecca asked, raising an eyebrow. Tristan opened the door to reveal Dave Heaton and Nori Lynch, both showing that they were completely unarmed. “Oh.” Rebecca said, feeling quite speechless.

“I understand your suspicions, but we are not here as an enemy. We both made mistakes, yes, but we’re trying to fix them.” Dave spoke quickly.

“And how are you trying to fix them, Mr. Heaton?” Rebecca asked, frowning.

“For starters, I’m here. I can give you details about the government, about the attack…” Dave frowned, trailing off.

“What do you know about the attack?” Tristan asked.

“We know it wasn’t you lot, for sure.” Dave responded.

“Because it was us.” Nori said softly.

“You carried out the attack?” Rebecca asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“We didn’t think it would end up like this, but yes.” Dave spoke softly. "The Hazards ordered the attack, but I feel that things soon grew out of hand.”

“You set the fire, then?” Tristan asked, glancing at Rebecca. The latter wasn’t saying anything, but her body language gave away her large suspicion of the pair.

“The fire was just a cover for the murders. An easy way out, so to speak.” Dave confirmed. “Do you have a science division? I have some information that could help with that.”

As Tristan started to give vague directions to the base on Omega, Rebecca found herself feeling conflicted. How often was it that one found themselves standing in the room with those responsible for the deaths of those closest to them?

She hadn’t realized that she had been staring into space until Tristan tapped her on the shoulder. “They’ve left.”

Rebecca nodded, straightening up. “You do realize you’ve sent two assassins to another base, right?”

“Was I supposed to turn them away?” Tristan asked.

“Yes! They absolutely cannot be trusted. They are assassins, Tristan. For all we know, they come back here and kill us, like they likely did to Oscar.”

“For all we know, they won’t.” Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose. “We don’t know what they did and did not do. For now, the best we can do is send them to somewhere better equip to deal with two dangerous assassins.”

Rebecca sighed. “I don’t like this at all, Tristan.”

“I know.” Tristan sighed with her. “But the game is changing. We have to change with it.”

 


	4. Andrew O'Rourke / @delusionsbybonnie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @delusionsbybonnie, aka [DelusionsByBonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie).

“Oi, Paddy!”

Andrew turned toward the shout, wiping his face and leaving a smear of sweat and blood across his sleeve. The man striding purposefully toward him was not one of the usual bruisers who paid him off after each fight, but a smaller, more authoritative man, his suit sitting as easily on him as Dr Jhandir’s preferred wardrobe. That meant it was expensive.

“Boss wants to talk t’you in private. C’mon.” The man turned abruptly, not waiting to see if he would follow, assuming that he would. One of Albright’s top men, then? Which boss? Surely not the man himself…

A short motorcar ride with dark windows deposited them in a carriage house with no windows at all, possibly underneath street level. Andrew was led up two flights of stairs, through a plush-carpeted hallway, and into a hushed, dimly-lit office. The man behind the desk looked up and smiled.

“Thank you, Mr Thompson. Mr O’Rourke, won’t you have a seat? A drink, perhaps?”

Andrew sat and took the proffered glass, sipping cautiously. It tasted expensive, and not entirely to his liking. Doc would probably have appreciated it.

“You’re doubtless wondering why I would want to speak to you personally.” He shuffled a few papers, settling them into place. “I’m certain you heard of the recent… unpleasantness at Gilded Hall.”

Yes, of course. The whole city was ablaze with gossip, and Andrew himself had had a couple of close shaves with the police of late. He thought it was no bad thing that someone had done away with the mayor, but Hazard and Scarborough in charge… it was out of the frying pan and into the fire, to be sure.

“In the aftermath, someone seems to have mislaid Mr Heaton and young Miss Lynch. Now, of course you know nothing about that, but I am given to understand that you have certain… connections that may have such knowledge.”

Albright paused dramatically, sipping his own drink. Andrew took a gulp from his glass, hoping to cover what was probably a guilty expression. He’d never been good at hiding things, and Albright was acting like he knew exactly what company Andrew had been keeping. Andrew himself had not yet met either of them, but it was an open secret in the rebellion that the two of them were staying in the Epsilon-Iota base.

“I don’t expect that you have much information at this point, but I would be very interested in anything that you do have to convey at some later point. You know where to find my representatives, and of course you will be reimbursed for your time and trouble.”

Albright smiled again and tossed back the rest of his drink, then stood and offered his hand. Andrew clumsily shuffled his unfinished glass from one hand to the other before shaking it, not quite managing to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Thank you for your time, Mr O’Rourke. I hope to hear from you soon. Mr Thompson will show you out.”

Andrew set his glass on a handy table and followed Thompson out of the office. The motorcar ride back was silent, but before Andrew could climb out, Thompson pulled an envelope from his jacket.

“For your trouble, like the boss said. If you think of something you wanna tell him, you let us know.” Thompson’s tight smile was less friendly than Albright’s, and Andrew took the envelope and ducked out of the car in a hurry. He needed to tell someone about this as soon as possible. He didn’t trust Heaton or Lynch, or Walt Steers either for that matter, but Albright knew much more than was healthy. He tucked the envelope into his waistcoat and set off at a brisk walk. Doc would know who to talk to.


	5. Dr. Jhandir / @sakuuya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @sakuuya, aka [sakuuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya).

Dr. Jhandir pulled the sheet over Bart Spencer’s face. He’d get someone to move the body as soon as he informed Tristan and Helena of their brother’s death.

“Time of death, 5:02 p.m.” he said to Caroline, for the sake of the thing. He’d known all along that the longer Spencer’s coma lasted, the less chance there was that the man would ever awaken, but somehow, it had still come as a shock when the man died.

Caroline didn’t respond, and it took Dr. Jhandir a moment to realize it was because she was crying, tears running silently down her cheeks.

“It’s all right, Caroline,” Dr. Jhandir said stiffly. “Prolonged comas are always risky. We did everything we could for him.” Despite his reassurances to Caroline, the doctor felt a seething dissatisfaction in his core. Surely there was more he could have done to prevent this. He was the rebellion’s chief doctor; if he couldn’t even keep a comatose man alive for a few months, how was he any better than, say, Irving Suttler? No, Caroline had no reason to blame herself for Spencer’s death, but Dr. Jhandir wasn’t so sure he deserved the same pardon.

Beside him, Caroline nodded and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, but she remained silent. Dr. Jhandir hadn’t had any idea how to comfort her when her adoptive father died, and he was similarly at a loss now. And she wasn’t even Spencer’s family. He’d have to break the news to them himself—he’d been Spencer’s most regular physician; it was the responsible thing to do—but he was dreading it. At least he’d have some time to prepare.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. Caroline, a sterling assistant even in her grief, opened it, and for a second, Dr. Jhandir thought he was having a hallucination brought on by the stress of Spencer’s death. But no, Mrs. Helena Spencer-Curtis was really here.

“How did you find out so quickly?” Dr. Jhandir said without thinking. But really, he and Caroline were the only ones who knew that Spencer had died, and neither of them had left this room since then.

“About the fire?” Mrs. Spencer-Curtis replied. “I’m surprised you already got wind of it all the way down—” she stopped talking abruptly when she noticed the covered shape on the bed.

Dr. Jhandir’s gaze followed hers. “Mr. Spencer died only minutes ago,” he said. “My condolences on your loss. If you’d like, I can give you some time alone with him.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Mrs. Spencer-Curtis sounded more angry than sad, and if Dr. Jhandir had been a religious man, he would have been praying that she wasn’t angry with him. “Caroline, would you please gather everyone in the safe house parlor? I came here with very serious news.”

Caroline’s eyes were still red-rimmed, but she nodded again and darted out of the bedroom. Mrs. Spencer-Curtis looked again at her brother’s body, then back at Dr. Jhandir.

“I don’t mind telling you, doctor, that whoever it was in the rebellion that helped plan the raid, I’d be only too happy to wring his neck myself.” And with that, she strode out of the room as well. Dr. Jhandir limped after her, still walking with a cane after being shot in the leg. He wondered if she had meant that as a personal threat.

Once the infirmary workers and the patients well enough to make the trip upstairs had assembled in the safe house parlor, Mrs. Spencer-Curtis explained how there had been a fire at Gilded Hall, how it had claimed the lives of Mayor Steers and at least some of the board, and how Chairman Hazard had assumed power and publicly blamed the rebellion for the attack.

“Rest assured that we had nothing to do with it,” Mrs. Spencer-Curtis said, though her tone suggested that she would have liked to have set the fire herself. Dr. Jhandir couldn’t help but agree; burning was a horrible death, and, in the doctor’s opinion, no less than Steers and his cronies deserved. “But now that we’ve been framed for such a flagrant act of terrorism, we need to be on our guard more than ever. No doubt Hazard will be out for our blood, but for the time being, we’re still trying to avoid open war.”

In the days that followed, Dr. Jhandir found Mrs. Spencer-Curtis’ warnings to be accurate. Suddenly, there were policemen and even soldiers everywhere he went, whereas before the fire, they’d hardly bothered trying to keep the peace down here at the end of the alphabet. His colleagues seemed to have new stories every day of dodging around soldiers, or being stopped by a suspicious policeman, but the doctor quickly found that babbling in Urdu gave the oafs pause. The first time he was stopped, he had been all apologies and protestations that he didn’t speak English, but he quickly found that no one knew what he was saying anyway, so as long as he kept a deferential tone, he could insult his questioners to their faces and they would be none the wiser.

That was a petty release valve, true enough, but an increasingly necessary one. There were more wounded at the infirmary now than there had been at any point since the raid on Pi, men and women who were less skilled at staying off the soldiers’ radar than the doctor was, and it meant nonstop work for him. Worries about the Archivist seemed to have been pushed to the back of everyone’s minds in the face of the much more tangible threat, but Dr. Jhandir still found himself constantly looking over his shoulder, and the continued presence of government troops did nothing to assuage his growing paranoia.

He should have gotten more sleep, now that he had his own bed back, but instead he found himself staying up night after night tweaking paralytics and poisons he’d developed while he worked for the government in anticipation of a time when they would be necessary. And once Walt Steers defected, he began reassembling his galvanic prod in a more portable form, just in case. Steers hadn’t recognized him more than vaguely; as much as Dr. Jhandir wanted recognition for the excellent work he’d done on Steers’ legs, the boy’s failure to remember him as the surgeon who’d attached them meant that he would have the element of surprise should Steers prove treacherous.

When, only a few days after Steers made contact with rebellion, Dave Heaton and Nori Lynch showed up at the base on Omicron, Dr. Jhandir was pleased that he already had a weapon against Heaton as well. Heaton had some sob story to explain why he had experienced a crisis of conscience and defected to the rebellion, just like Steers did. Dr. Jhandir mistrusted that kind of motivation. Consciences were so changeable. And Ms. Lynch seemed to have no reason at all for following Heaton, which was equally worrying.

Still, whether Heaton was really committed to the rebellion or not, Dr. Jhandir meant to make use of him while the wound in his conscience was still fresh. Heaton didn’t seem surprised to see him, and Dr. Jhandir felt a stab of panic at the thought that the assassin might have always known he’d faked his death.

“I’ve already told all this to Maddie, and your Daphne Massey,” Heaton said after they’d exchanged strained pleasantries and Dr. Jhandir

“And now you will tell it to me,” the doctor said firmly. The laboratory beneath Gilded Hall, did you burn it down?”

Heaton shook his head. “I should have, in retrospect, but we were very careful that none of the structure inside the platform was destroyed. How did you know about that already?”

“Thaddeus Beck let it slip before his death,” Dr. Jhandir let his gaze linger on Heaton’s arm, the one he knew to be mechanical, as he added, “I also know that electricity will shut down organo-mechanical parts, unless Lady Sterling has somehow overcome that particular design flaw.”

“No, that’ll still do it.” Dave kept his own expression steady, apparently unmoved by the implicit threat. “Did you know that the reanimated mechanicals have memories of their former lives?”

Now Dr. Jhandir was surprised, and he did a poor job of hiding it. “Really? Lady Stanley said something to that effect, but I assumed she was seeing what she wanted to see. There’s a chance that the mechanical men could regain their memories?”

“I don’t know exactly how to trigger it, and I doubt it’ll be easy, but yes, there’s a chance. I’ve seen the evidence myself—unless of course, you don’t think I’m a credible witness either, doctor?”

Dr. Jhandir didn’t, really, but he kept that thought to himself as his mind raced. “I think it would be prudent to keep that information to yourself as much as possible, Mr. Heaton. It’s not that I doubt your credibility, but if we have no clear means of bringing out the mechanicals’ repressed personalities, I don’t want people to raise their hopes only to see them dashed.”

Finding out anything useful about the mechanical men was likely to be a trip through the ghastly kitchen, as Bernard wrote, but Dr. Jhandir couldn’t say he wasn’t looking forward to it. The more people knew that their old friends might still be inside those reanimated corpses, the less likely he would be allowed to do any real exploratory work, and he would so hate to miss his chance.

Heaton’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks for the advice, doctor.”

“Of course,” Dr. Jhandir replied lightly. “I wish you all the best in the coming troubles. Good day, Mr. Heaton.”

When he returned home, Dr. Jhandir redoubled his work on the galvanic prod.


End file.
